


The Price

by profoundlyfadedprincess



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark One Captain Hook | Killian Jones, F/M, Princess Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7539340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profoundlyfadedprincess/pseuds/profoundlyfadedprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magic always comes with a price. Sometimes, it’s immediate, like having the darkness forced into you, other times, fate waits.</p>
<p>The new minted Dark One, Killian Jones, may think his first curse is nothing more than a bit of ripe punishment for royals of the Enchanted Forest. Until he meets an enchanting Bounty Hunter in a tavern twenty nine years later.</p>
<p>After all, magic comes with a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

# The Price

 

 

‘You aren’t the Dark One.’

 

The Evil Queen’s voice echoed around the cavernous hall of the castle that now belonged to the new minted Dark One. Killian Jones quirked his eyebrows at the newcomer and removed his boot from the giant oak table. He had been lounging in contemplation of what comes next – what did one do after emerging victor after a two hundred year feud? His blue eyes narrowed on the black-clad monarch as she strode the length of the hall in an imperious manner. Her black dress glittered when it caught the light streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows on the south wall.

 

‘Well, Your Majesty,’ replied Captain Hook, with a wave of his hand. In the swirl of smoke, a dagger of ornate design appeared in his hand. He twisted it in the light showing Regina his name engraved in the wavy blade. ‘You are very much mistaken.’

 

Her hazel eyes zeroed in on the dagger. Killian smirked as he flicked his wrist, the dagger vanishing as quickly as it had appeared to return to its place deep in the vault below the castle. He may well be the new incarnate of the Dark One, but he was a centuries-old pirate. He knew a murderous look when he saw one.

 

‘I’m supposed to believe that you, a one-handed pirate without a drop of magic, killed Rumpelstiltskin,’ she sneered flicking the skirt of her dress in frustration. Hook answered with a quirk of his eyebrows. ‘How did you do it?’ she asked, her tone changing to interest. ‘How did you kill the Dark One?’

 

‘By making sure he didn’t see me coming,’ replied Hook. ‘But enough about me. You came here, looking for help from the Dark One Your Majesty, so what how can I help?’

 

A grin, dark and evil, curved on her face. ‘I’m thinking of several things you can help with Dark One.’

 

Hook chuckled, a laugh that rumbled deep in his chest. ‘Much as I’m sure it would be an enjoyable experience, love, I’m more interested in why you came here in the first place. You didn’t come here for an enjoyable experience with the Crocodile. So Your Majesty, how can I help?’

 

‘The curse Rumpelstiltskin created didn’t work,’ she said, her hands going to her hips. ‘I crushed the heart of the thing I love the most but we’re all still here.’

 

‘Ah,’ Hook replied, tapping his finger on the arm of his chair. ‘But surely that would imply you can love.’

 

From the look on her face, he could tell he hit a nerve.

 

‘What can I say,’ he said as she seethed at his words, ‘I’ve not spent an overabundance of time in this realm in the last few years, but while in port, whispers of hundreds dead, perhaps even thousands dead at your hand. Doesn’t strike me as someone who has ever experienced love.’

 

‘A little rich coming from you, Captain.’

 

Hooks lips twitched into a lopsided grin. ‘Rumours of my escapades are greatly exaggerated, milady,’ he rapped out smoothly, then he shrugged when her head fell to the side in a doubtful expression. ‘Pirate, Your Majesty, I’ve spent centuries traversing the realms. I couldn’t do it unhindered without some sort of reputation under my belt.

 

‘But I digress,’ he continued putting his feet on the floor, ‘you have yet to tell me what it is you actually need. I tire of you wasting my time.’

 

‘I want to know how to cast the curse.’

 

Killian spread his hands. ‘I can’t give you what you need.’

 

Regina glowered at him, but unable to harm him in any capacity without his engraved knife, she stormed from the castle leaving Hook contemplating Rumpelstiltskin’s alliance with the Evil Queen. The machinations of the Crocodile were of little interest to him. However, one did have to ponder upon the curse requiring the heart of something loved the most and concluding the Evil Queen was the best person to procure such a thing.

 

Unsurprisingly it all centred on Baelfire. Even after all this time, Rumpelstiltskin still sought a path to his son. Killian couldn’t quite rid himself of the bitter taste in the back of his throat.

 

\--//--

 

The curse on the new Princess came about as a show of power after the Charmings attempted to storm his castle. As he had done very little in the way of antagonising the royal family, he decided a show of power was required in the form of a curse. He had not some much as clicked his fingers to use the magic forced upon him following the Crocodile’s death, but now, well he could see where Regina’s desire to be rid of the do-gooding royals. Harm would be easily caused by focusing on the small child growing in Snow White’s belly. The Crocodile had theorised the child would be the product of True Love, thus a very powerful being of unimaginable power. Putting that to the test was the sort of challenge Killian enjoyed.

 

The coronation ceremony was in full swing when he entered the throng, throwing open the doors just as the Blue Fairy finished granting her gift. Although why anyone would trust Reul Ghorm to gift a new born with anything was beyond the Dark One’s imagination. Killian had donned his best attire; a red vest with brass buttons, black shirt, matching leather pants with his coat and sword at his side. Charming rose to his feet drawing his sword as Killian began his walk towards the cot.

 

Killian rested his hook on the hilt of his sword, throwing an arrogant smirk at the Prince, or was it King now, as he peered into the cot.

 

‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’ he enquired, looking at the swaddled babe.

 

‘Hook,’ Snow addressed him, her hand on Charming, staying his hand.

 

He glanced up, a smile plastering across his face. Dark, twisted, sardonic pleasure lingered in his blue eyes as he looked at Snow White in her fine gown with a crown atop her head. ‘I must say, Your Majesty, I was most distressed at not getting an invitation.’

 

‘You’re not welcome here,’ snarled Charming.

 

‘Really, mate? After all I’ve done for you? Slaying the imp. Preventing Regina from casting that delightful curse she threatened upon the Kingdom,’ Killian replied as he hooked his thumb into his belt. ‘I’d say I’d done you a favour. And how do you repay me? By storming my castle in the dead of night. Your tactics are certainly lacking in good form.’

 

‘What do you know of good form?’ yelled Charming. ‘You’re nothing but a pirate.’

 

Silence fell in the room, breaths held as time seemed to slow down. The Dark One threw off the insult with a wave of his hand. ‘Aye, mate,’ he said as he turned back to the child. ‘That I am, but I’m also the Dark One. Besides, I did not come to bestow my time on you. Instead, to give your dear daughter a moment of my time.’

 

Charming surged forward, pulling himself out of Snow White’s grip. ‘You stay away from her,’ the prince roared.

 

Again, Killian flicked his wrist, Charming paused in mid-movement, his face twisted and snarling as he reached out with fingers that had turned into claws. Killian tutted. He looked at Snow White who was frozen in her seat looking up at her husband. ‘Dear me, Your Majesty, your husband has quite the temper.’

 

He tutted again then looked at the child. She had some dark tufts on the crown on her head with the baby blue eyes that every child was born with. His mortal self always had a longing for children. A brace of boys and girls bearing the shared characteristics of himself and Milah. It had never meant to be.

 

‘Now,’ he muttered, ‘where was I? Oh yes, now listen up all of you, I certainly wouldn’t want you to miss out the details. The Princess will indeed grow in beauty and grace-’ he threw a look at the Blue Fairy who fluttered nearby without so much as intervening- ‘beloved by all, yet before the sun sets on her thirtieth birthday, she will prick her finger on the thorn of a rose to fall into a death-like slumber only to be awakened by True Love’s kiss.’

 

Killian smirked at his clause. The Princess’s parents might share True Love, but it was the rarest of magic, the hardest won. Despite how much and how long he had loved Milah, they had never attained the heady heights of True Love. Besides, the harder one looked for it, the harder it became to obtain it.

 

‘This curse shall last to the end of time. No power in all the known realms and beyond can change it,’ he finished.

 

Then with a wave of his hand, the blackest of magic rushed over them all, releasing the furious prince and Snow White from their frozen stances. Yet the Dark One was too fast, or time to slow, as he vanished in a haze of red smoke. Gone before Charming’s sword even reached the spot where he stood as Snow White collapsed to her knees.

 

\--//--

 

Killian Jones was not so stupid as to leave his newest mortal enemies with a sitting target, even if he could drop them with a swish of his wrist, thus retreated back to the _Jolly Roger_. The intention was to watch them suffer, struggle to save their daughter knowing that nothing could ever prevent it her demise. As the years rolled by fits of sheer malevolence took him back to the shores of the Enchanted Forest. He would plant lures to lead the family around in the hope of finding an end to his curse. Every time he ventured into the green depths of the once beautiful forest, he noted evidence of roses being destroyed; uprooted and burnt. The Charming’s were nothing if not through in their bid to save their daughter.

 

His face also decorated the trees with a healthy bounty for his capture. As if any mortal would truly dare to tangle with the Dark One.

 

As for the Princess, the Royal Family sent her away with the fairies for her own protection. Killian was amused by the thought of the ditzy creatures given the task of protecting the Princess from him. She had very little to fear from him directly.

 

At twenty-one, the Princess ran from the fairies. A decision that Killian couldn’t agree more with. For all the fairies claimed to be wholesome, the Dark One knew it not to be so. But how the Royals wished to raise their child was up to them and their misguided beliefs. Of course, his little game now had the added delight of watching them search not only for the cure for his curse but for their daughter as well.

 

But in all, the twenty-nine years passed in a haze.

 

\--//--

 

Piracy was even more fun when you did have mortality to hold you back. His crew was successful and not one of them knew that beneath his charming, unaged smile, lurked the Dark One. With his newly restored hand, using his given name once more, most agreed he had the most uncanny if unfortunate resemblance to the Dark One. He was able to hide his lack of a need for sleep from the crew by entertaining himself with many a willing girl in each port, yet sexual gratification was beginning to bore him.

 

At this time of disillusionment, she caught his eye.

 

A lithe body covered in brown leathers and blonde hair in a high ponytail. A sword was slung on her back rather than at the waist. She walked with a swagger of confidence. Killian watches her with hungry eyes as she leans over the bar to order her drink, assets on show for the barkeep. He grabbed his tumbler of rum and sauntered over.

 

‘Not an especially safe place for a lady such as you,’ he remarks, even though he notes a dagger at her side and one in her boot.

 

‘Who says I’m a lady?’ she asks, turning to face him, her smile sweet but eyes sardonic. ‘And who says I want you for company?’

 

‘Well, aren’t you the feisty one?’ Killian replied. ‘Captain Killian Jones of the _Jolly Roger-’_ he bows with a flourish- ‘at your service.’

 

Her eyes light up, jade going to a slight tawny shade. ‘Is that so?’ she replied, taking a sip of ale. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. None of it good. Surely you’re the type of man who makes this place dangerous for a lady like me?’

 

Killian can’t deny she has a point, thus he only smiles back, a dangerous, lust filled expression but from the way she looks back at him… Well, he’s always liked a challenge.

 

As the night comes to a close, the feisty one is still supping on the pints she has been steadily buying through the night. While she sits in the shadowed corner, her eyes darting over everyone and everything, while waving away other would-be suitors with a flick of her wrist. One tried his luck more than once earning himself a thump to the face from the clearly able woman.

 

Killian knows the expression darkening her otherwise beautiful face; she is searching for something but she doesn’t appear to know where to start. Yet he feels he has an element of measure in her. In his much younger years, he two would linger in taverns, seated in the darkness searching out some missing piece. For him, it had been the last link to rid the realm of the Crocodile. She seems to be searching for something as equally as important – her own missing link.

 

Eventually, their eyes meet again. This time, she gets up. Her moves are fluid, sensual as she saunters over, beer in hand before settling opposite her.

 

‘You are quite the conundrum,’ she said. ‘You are the only man in here to have left me be.’

 

‘Well, what the lady requests, the lady gets,’ he replied taking a sip of his rum.

 

An angelic smile crosses her face. ‘I need passage on your ship.’

 

Killian blinked, leant back to examine her. ‘What do I get in return?’

 

‘That is up to you, Captain.’

 

\--//--

 

His payment, he decided, was to pillage the beautiful woman who had so boldly asked him for passage on his ship. Miss Swan, Emma, had been more than willing to accept his offer. Particularly after he pointed out being the lover of the Captain came with certain privileges.

 

‘Besides, would you rather have one of their grubby hands on you?’ he asked, waving his hand in the direction of his rambunctious crew. ‘Once I’ve had my way with you, I’ll let you be, unless you ask for more.’

 

His promise had elicited a dark look in her eyes, thus he led her back to the cabin of his beloved ship. The moment he had her enclosed, away from prying eyes, Killian began to devour her. Lips moulded against each other as tongues tangled together. His hands roved freely as did hers. Emma Swan had clearly had her fair share of encounters. Not that he minded, blushing virgins were always a knife edge to walk in such a situation. He just wanted to fuck. He pulled at her top, half regretting he no longer had his hook to just rip it apart, desperate to reveal the milky tits he had only gotten a glimpse of in the bar. Killian tugged at the laces of her corset, then in a growl of frustration, took drew his dagger and sliced through them. The shirt beneath ripping apart by his sheer strength.

 

‘Captain,’ she whispered against his ear, as his tongue slid between her exposed breasts ‘so eager.’

 

He growled in response and latched onto an exposed nipple, his teeth grazing the soft flesh while his tongue massaged the pointed tip. Emma cried out, a call to the gods as Killian’s hand went to the other, fingers pinching her until he transferred his mouth there. He was going to be sure the only name she said by the end of the night was his. She was going to want him with endless abandon by the time he was done.

 

Her hand cradled the back of his head, threading through the short hair at the base of his skull, urging him closer. The hand that wasn’t occupied with slid over her hip, finding scars there before sliding down to her waistband. Her spare hand was at the laces of her figure hugging leggings, pulling the apart as his hand made its way to the soft globe of her ass.

 

Emma encouraged him every step away. Nipping at his skin at every chance she had, touching and exploring his body for herself. Her fingers were touches of light against his darkened heart. Part of him revelled in it as he kissed her until her lips were bruised, buried deep in her. Another part hated her for the power she had over the darkness. Yet he could not deny the intoxicating high he gained from her. Particularly when she turned the tables on him in the night. She took her own pleasure from him, taking him deep in her hot mouth until he came.

 

Her reaction was a smile. She brushed her matted blonde hair aside as she wiped her lips clean with her thumb as she swallowed before sliding down onto his still hardened length.

 

\--//--

 

As dawn filtered through the port holes, Killian found himself gazing at her honeyed skin as he sat in the high back chair at his desk. It had been an age since finding himself such a willing lover as her. She barely spoke during their ritual, just as he preferred. But as she was to be his companion having promised her the rights of the Captain’s lover while she remained, he supposed he would soon discover the reasons for her scar covered body.

 

The ship came alive on deck. Killian washed himself down and dressed, remembering as he did so that he had been careless with her clothing. Her shirt was nothing more than ragged remains. The laces of her corset were obliterated. Replacing them would not be an issue. It would be a matter of sending one of the men out with a handful of coin. The Darkness might still rage in his body but it didn’t mean he had to alter his standard of care towards a woman under his protection.

 

\--//--

 

Over time he learns she is a runaway and mercenary. Emma Swan has hunted many a bounty in her years. Like many others seeks the Dark One, but only should he cross her path, a more pressing matter concerns her. One of a very personal nature. Killian asks, naturally, but Emma just smiled and demanded further satisfaction at his hands.

 

He doesn’t tire from her heavenly quim and delicious lips.

 

The part of him that still remembers being mortal ponders whether it is love. He shakes it off as lust but his entrancement in her leads him offering to improve her sword skills for whatever battle she has. They go over the moves until she begins to be able to best time one in every three times before declaring they can go no further. No point teaching her how to completely best him when she desires to win the bounty on his head.

 

‘I’m a lost princess,’ she whispers one night after one too many shots of rum.

 

It takes a lot to shock him. This certainly does. Emma Swan is a siren, vicious mercenary and a drinker on par with his own indulgence. She isn’t a Princess. Yet, he could tell if it was a bald face lie or even one said under a haze of alcohol. A shake develops in his restored hand; he calls it his anchor of mortality for a reason. He has come to care for her, wanting to understand the woman who seems to reflect his mortal soul, or what remains of it at least.

 

‘Don’t believe me?’ she giggles. An uncharacteristic sound but she is pretty drunk.

 

From around her neck, she removes a necklace he has seen every time from time to time. It usually gets discarded amongst her shirt in the heat of passion but when she walks around the cabin naked, it’s there swinging from breast to breast. She holds out the ring for his examination.

 

The coat of arms belongs to Charming and Snow White. It adorns every poster in the Enchanted Forest that bears his face. Their eyes meet for a moment.

 

‘You’re the cursed princess?’ he whispers.

 

She smiles, it’s sardonic but still full of all the grace and beauty bestowed on her by the curse. ‘Indeed.’

 

\--//--

 

By his calculations, he has a little over a month to find a cure to the curse he had deemed would last until the end of time. The curse no power in all the known realms could change. The curse that requires the rarest of magic to break. He hasn’t withdrawn from slaking his lust with her. But while she sleeps he combines all the words he knows to save her from the curse he enacted in a childish fit of pique thirty years earlier. A curse that earnt him the good grace of the Evil Queen for its genius.

 

_No power in all the known realms and beyond can change it._

 

The words mock him in his nightly struggle. Come the morning, he loses himself within her again. It’s a despicable act, even for one possessed of the Darkness. As a result, the man he once was speaks to him. The man who once knew how to love has resurfaced in his mind.

 

Love.

 

Is that what he feels for this burning woman? All he had wanted was bury himself in her, use her for his own pleasure, but now… Now he’d walk to the end of the world for her.

 

It never occurred to him what the outcome of this curse was going to be beyond the Princess’s eternal sleep. His desire had only been to harm her parents for their needless endeavours against him. Killian Jones, the Dark One, was never supposed to suffer.

 

However, magic always has a price.

 

\--//--

 

The deck is deserted. Killian whisking his crew away into slumber with a wave of his hand despite the choppy waters. Emma is at the bow of the ship, enjoying the exhilarating rise and fall of the waves with spray in the air. Killian has decided she has to know. The internal struggle of the last few weeks has been won by his light side. The real Killian Jones is surfacing under her ministrations both inside and outside the sanctuary of the Captain’s Cabin.

 

As he draws closer to her, she sees her hand curled into the thick ropes to help her hold on.

 

‘Emma,’ he calls.

 

He rarely calls her Emma, preferring the surname she has chosen for herself – Swan. After all, she is as graceful and fierce as one. She turns. As the Crocodile had predicted all those years ago, she is pure light magic. He is drawn to her because he has noticed how she lights up the little parts of his soul he thought were consumed. It wasn’t as if he ever wanted the mantle of The Dark One.

 

She smiles at his call, her body swaying towards him, her hand landing on his shoulder. ‘What is it?’

 

‘Emma, I must tell you something, something that will make your mission so much easier.’

 

Her expression grows serious, her hand curls into his lapel. She’s grown too close to him as well. He aches to touch her, put her hands on her waist to steady her.

 

‘What is it?’

 

She looks at him as if he can do her no harm. He supposes there is not much more he can do for her. In a less than a week, she will fall into a sleep that no one will ever be able to wake her from. He takes the hand on his lapel.

 

‘Love, I must ask you hear me out,’ he said, walking her away from the bow.

 

The hand in the rope untangles and rests on his waist. Killian does know if he can take losing this type of contact from her. He realises just how much they have been falling for each other. He caresses her cheek. She sighs into it.

 

‘Emma, I am the Dark One.’

 

The moment freezes. The hand at his waist moves away as if she has shocked her with magic. Were it not the hold on her hand, Emma would have tugged it away. He recognises her desire to move so he releases her hand.

 

‘No.’

 

She looks from one hand to the other, then his skin. Even though he has barely used magic he had taken on the scaly appearance of the Dark One. He used a cloaking spell to restore his natural appearance.

 

‘Aye, love,’ he whispers, stepping away from her.

 

As he did so, he flicked his wrist and produced the dagger he had hidden for years. He showed her his name as her hands went to her face in despair. She is shattering. He wants to hold her together. He’s shattering too.

 

However, all her focus is on the dagger, his name written in embellished in the dark engraving.

 

‘What would happen if I took this from you?’ she asked, her arms glued to her side.

 

‘You would control me.’

 

‘If I slid it into your heart?’ Emma asked as her fingers twitched.

 

‘I would die. You would be reborn as a Dark One,’ he replies as his fingers release a little of their grip on the hilt.

 

Emma looks at the gesture, the dagger going limp, her eyes widening. ‘Would it prevent the curse?’

 

Tears form in the ducts of his eyes. ‘I don’t know.’ A beat passes between them. ‘For all the gods in the realm Emma, just…’

 

‘Just what?’

 

‘Save yourself.’

 

She looked up and met his eyes. ‘How am I supposed to do that when you cursed me for all time?’

 

\--//--

 

The standoff between them results in him banishing the dagger back to its hiding spot while Emma fled to the cabin. There was barely a week left. Killian resolved to leave his crew in their slumber while he saw to Emma. He stood at the ship's wheel when she emerged from the cabin, pushing it open with a huge amount of force. Her eyes narrowed on him. If looks could kill he was sure this one would have burnt him up. He noted that far from their usual jade appearance they had turned amber. Emma stalked towards him.

 

‘Take me home.’

 

The demand was simple. He supposed he should allow her the time with her family, but as the night had passed another option had occurred to him. In the middle of the sea, there was no way for a rose to even find its way onto the ship.

 

‘You will almost certainly succumb to the curse,’ he tells her.

 

‘I will anyway,’ she yells. ‘You said yourself last night, you have already tried to undo it. Please, just let me go to be with the people who love me.’

 

His hand clenched the handles of the ship’s wheel. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘There is one other option. Swan, tell me what you see?’

 

‘Other than the accursed Dark One?’

 

‘Aye, other than me,’ he replied.

 

‘The sea,’ she said, looking away from the boat the open expanses of the ocean they had been traversing the last month. ‘I don’t understand?’

 

‘Well, the sea isn’t known for its ability to grow roses,’ he said. ‘If there is no rose with which to prick your finger then the curse cannot take effect.’

 

Emma looked at him incredulously. ‘You think something so simple as that will just make the curse blow over?’ She shook her head. ‘Why do you even care?’

 

‘Because I care about you.’ The words hung between them. Emma rocked with the motion of the ship, but the fury in her eyes died down, he looked away. ‘It’s worth a shot, Emma.’

 

\--//--

 

For some reason, she agrees. He doesn’t know why, but she nods her head says she’ll stay. She occupies her mind by going over her training. Killian watches her mesmerising dance wishing he could pull her into his arms and reclaim her body for his own. But he keeps his distance from her until she comes to him as the sun is setting on the day before the dreaded birthday.

 

‘Take me to bed,’ she whispers.

 

He does so willingly, pulling her into his arms to kiss her. He makes it about her. He isn’t sure if it is love that he feels, but it’s strong so when he removes her clothes he does so slowly. Each lay is peeled away reverently. Instead of rutting into her, he worships her as if she were a goddess. His lips and fingers move over her, pressing at all the little spots of pleasure he has come to know well.

 

They take their time reaching their peak. Tumbling together as though nothing but they matter. Twisted, garbled sentences left each of their lips as the night sped on until dawn. If freezing time were possible, Killian would have done so just to revel in these hours over and over again. When completion came, he took Emma in his arms. Even he fell into sleep.

 

The restful period did not last long. Killian woke as the golden beams of dawn filtered into the cabin, highlighting her burnished skin and golden hair. As his fingers painted a pattern on her shoulder, she sighs as she nuzzles into the pillow. There is a great appeal to waking up with her every morning. Even if they beat the curse, the act of sleeping and waking together would be a luxury. With a groan, Killian pulls himself away and rolls onto his back. Something on his desk catching his eye.

 

He sits up, pulling the sheets off of Emma as he does to look at the flower on the desk. ‘No,’ he mutters, scrambling out of the bed. ‘No, no, no.’

 

Emma stirs, rolling over then moving into the space he has just vacated. ‘What is it?’

 

Killian holds up the flower. A rare rose from the fields of Camelot. ‘Middlemist,’ he mutters.

 

‘It’s a rose.’

 

‘Aye, love,’ he agrees sadly. ‘It seems you were right. Nothing so simple.’

 

She sits up and pulls one the nearest shirt to hand over her head. It’s one of his black ones, it leaves her looking tantalising. Now isn’t the time to be lusting over her. She looks down at it with sadness, fingers curling into the sheet as she tries to stop tears from forming. Her head tilts to the side, but before she can say anything Killian snatches up the rose and makes for the deck despite being naked.

 

‘Killian,’ she yells, jumping up the bed to follow him, emerging behind him just in time to see him throw the rose into the wake of the ship.

 

He watches it land then sink into the waves before turning back to her. Without a word, he cups her cheeks then kisses her in a slow, searing manner before ripping the shirt from her. They fall in a naked tangle on the deck.

 

He takes her without preamble, pushing into her warm depths.

 

‘I will not lose you to this curse,’ he vows as he begins to move within her.

 

Yet when they return to the cabin, their bodies covered in sweat from their lovemaking, they pause at the bottom of the ladder. Another rose lies on the table. Emma looks up at Killian. She is no longer looking her lover, but the Dark One.

 

Dangerous, furious…

 

Bested…

 

Emma is resigned to the fate that has been hanging over her head since she was a week old. She leaves his side and walks to the table. As she reaches out for it, Killian grabs her wrist to stop her, his other hand warm on the bare skin of her waist. She turns her head to look at him.

 

‘Let me do this on my terms,’ she says softly. ‘Not forced at dusk.’

 

‘I can’t,’ Killian bites out.

 

Emma pulls her wrist free. ‘You can. Just return me home.’

 

Before he can stop her, while he is dumbfounded by her decision, she grabs the bloom. Examines it as she twists it between her fingers for a moment. In a swift movement, she clenches the stem in her fist, the thorns breaking through the skin of her palm. The pain causes her breath to catch as the sensation of a glut of poison feels her blood. Her knees give out as she turns her head to him.

 

Killian catches her before her knees hit her floor of the cabin. Her eyes drifting shut as he lays her down. He shouts and screams and rages. It makes no difference. His curse is complete. Princess Emma lies in an eternal sleep that only the rarest of magic can break.

 

For the end of time.

 

\--//--

 

It’s midnight. The bell tolling in the palace clock tower when a bed with a beautiful woman appears in the tallest tower. She has not been seen in the Enchanted Forest for years. But now she lies in a white gown, her hair glossy and shining with a Middlemist Rose in her hand. To the casual observer, Princess Emma looked as innocent as the day she was born. No hint of her travels, battles or lusts marked the milky skin of her body.

 

The Enchanted Forest entered mourning for their sleeping Princess.

 

In a port far from the palace, an entire crew of men appears without their captain nor ship surrounded by their ill-gotten gains.

 

And on a ship far out to sea, the most powerful of magical creatures rips his cabin apart with a roar of anguish, stopping only when he finds a letter tucked into a book.

 

_I forgive you. Emma._

 

\--//--

 

Killian Jones concludes royals have no imagination. Since losing Emma to his curse, he has travelled the known realms to learn what he can of True Love, even returning to the Dark One castle to research the Crocodile’s musing on the subject. Each of the cases he has encountered of True Love has involved pure princesses and valiant princes. Emma’s own parents are not an exception to this rule either. His research into Emma Swan has caused him to conclude the product of True Love had a ruthless streak, took her pleasure and indulged in excess.

 

Killian ponders, as he reflects on the life he had before Milah if it is the case for people like he and her to ever attain such rarity. Perhaps if Emma had allowed to be a Princess she would have found True Love in the halls of her parent’s palace.

 

As he searches for the cure, stories reach him of Princes arriving in the Enchanted Forest with the express intention of kissing the sleeping Princess. It maddens him to the core.

 

Jealousy, a voice sounds much like his younger self, is a sure sign of love.

 

His eyes drift to the phials the Crocodile had collected in his two-hundred-year career. _True Love._ It burnt with light magic as two hairs entangled with one another. Killian had to ponder just who the Crocodile had plucked them from.

 

‘Why Prince Charming and Snow White,’ laughed the imp in the recesses of his mind. ‘Not that he’s really a Prince of course.’

 

Killian spun on the spot, looking behind him. He was alone, but a thought struck him as he listened to the voice of his deceased nemesis. He turned back to the vials to carefully extracted the True Love one and placed it in his pocket.

 

‘What exactly are you going to do with that, dearie?’ the apparition asked.

 

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ he snarled before vanishing in a cloud of red smoke.

 

‘You really shouldn’t be toying with things you don’t understand,’ Rumpelstiltskin insisted as Killian appeared in a grand marble hallway of the palace were Emma lay.

 

He walked away from the voice. He had become well practiced in ignoring the deepest recesses of the darkness this past year. Emma had changed him beyond all comprehension. Killian flicked his wrist in the dismissal of the voice and began the climb to the room. As suspected, it was guarded but it was little more than a minor inconvenience. Killian knocked them to their sleep. They’d wake up to sore heads and likely dismissal but at least they wouldn’t be dead.

 

In the room, the Princess looks frozen, still in the garb he had conjured for her. She didn’t look like the woman he knew, the passionate lover who took as much as she gave. His walk to her side was slow, full of hesitation. He had missed her in the year that had passed. Her smiles, glorious body, conversation, all of her.

 

As he reached her, he stroked her cheek then removed the tiara in her golden tresses. Emma did count herself a Princess. Neither did he. He glanced at her lips, wondering how many errant Princes had pressed their lips to hers in their vain bid to awaken her and win the country that came attached to her.

 

(Her younger brother, trained for the Crown, pushed aside to encourage the gentry to try to wake the Princess.)

 

‘I will never ask anything of you for this, my love,’ he whispered as he placed his forehead on hers. ‘But if this works, and you wish to stay by my side, then we shall stay together as long as you wish.’

 

His lips touched her lips, a tear sliding down his face, wondering how on earth it had taken him a year to come to this conclusion. Killian pulled away from her, but her eyes remained shut. He sighed deeply.

 

‘Never doubt I have come to love you, Swan,’ he said, standing to take his leave of her. ‘Should you ever wake and I linger on in this world, you have but to ask for me.’

 

As he turned from her, a hand grabbed his, fingers curling into his palms. ‘I knew it was you,’ she whispered, her voice hoarse from a year asleep.

 

She reached up, pulling him down so she could kiss him, fingers sliding into the shorter hair at the base of his skull. As she did so a wave of light magic engulfed them. It was so strong Killian was forced back, breaking the kiss. He stood looking at her, her mouth slightly agape at him, as his fingers went to his lips.

 

‘It’s gone,’ he whispered, looking at her as if he were the first time he had ever seen her. ‘Emma, the Darkness.’

 

Emma swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pushing the cover off herself in frustration. ‘True Love’s Kiss,’ she whispered, getting to her feet. She’s a little shaky after a year asleep, but Killian grabs her elbows. ‘I knew. I knew the Darkness was leaving you. That last day.’

 

As she reaches up to kiss him, but the door flies open revealing Emma’s father. He sees his daughter on her feet, but then his eyes go to Killian. Hatred boils in his eyes for the man who cursed his daughter. The aging King draws his sword.

 

‘Father, no,’ Emma shouts, placing herself between her True Love and father. ‘I can explain.’

 

Charming pays her no heed. Killian tries to pull her aside out of harm’s way, but she shrugs him off, instead she turns and pulls Killian’s sword.

 

‘This bastard cursed you,’ Charming yells.

 

‘I know,’ Emma cried back, levelling the sword at him, ‘but I will run you through if you harm him. He isn’t the man who did that anymore. He isn’t the Dark One anymore.’

 

‘I likely tale,’ snarled Charming.

 

‘But true,’ bit out Killian.

 

The King doesn’t relax his stance but neither does Emma. ‘I love him, father,’ she said. ‘And he loves me. He woke me from the curse.’

 

‘As caster of the curse, he could have orchestrated this to gain the Kingdom,’ replied Charming. ‘Seize him.’

 

The guards surged around the room. Emma watched shaking her head whispering ‘no, no, no’ as Killian was bodily pulled from the room. She looked at her father, aghast and angry. ‘How could you?’ she demanded, the sword now shaking. ‘How could you?’

 

Her father gave her a pitying glance as Emma’s legs gave out, crashing against the marble floor of the room as Charming sheathed his sword.

 

‘It’s for the best Emma,’ he said. ‘One day you’ll understand that.’

 

The doors to the sleeping chamber were shut to the sound of her soft cries.

 

\--//--

 

He was sentenced to death. There would be no trial, no chance for him to have his say. The guards casually remarked that the Princess was locked in her room. Bewitched, they said, by the powers of the Dark One. Where he still the Dark One he would have been able to blast through these bars without a second thought.

 

Killian sat in his cell. It had a window so he could measure the passage of time. Once the sun had peaked over the horizon he would be killed; hung, drawn and quarter was the sentence. A particularly vicious death handed down by a monarch who was usually celebrated for his clemency. His only comfort was the bottle of rum the guards had failed to extract from his person when tossing him in here. It’s a bitter irony. Had she waited for but a moment to kiss him, he would have still had his powers and could have whisked them from this predicament.

 

Commotion reached his ears, the zing of blades and the slosh of blood. The other prisoners started yelling, rattling the bars as the sound of a fight echoed down the damp stone corridors. Killian got to his feet as a guard was dropped at the end of the corridor. The silhouette replacing the guard revealing not another man but the lithe body of the beautiful woman he’d trained in such moves.

 

‘Swan?’ his voice was hoarse with surprise.

 

She ran down to him, followed by another who sheathed his sword.

 

‘Killian,’ she said, pulling out some keys. ‘We’ve not go long. The castle already stirs. We must leave.’

 

‘How?’ he asked as she unlocked the doors.

 

‘Secret tunnels that lead out into the woods,’ said the young man, pulling back his hood to reveal the spitting image of Prince Charming. ‘They are an escape route for if the family was ever to be ambushed. Just use your seal, Emma, and the door will open. Keep moving. Do not look back. It will not take long for father to piece together what happened here.’

 

‘I know,’ she said, taking Killian’s hand. ‘We can get back to the _Jolly_. Get away from here forever.’

 

‘Aye, love,’ Killian replied with a nod. He looked at Prince Neal. ‘I don’t know how to repay you.’

 

‘You care for her,’ the Prince replied, ‘but don’t set foot in this Kingdom until my father is dust. I will not be able to help you a second time. You must go. I need to return before I am missed.’

 

Emma nodded, turning to pull Killian with her. ‘Come, we must.’

 

They ran through the tunnels, her hand never leaving his and burst out into the forest a good two miles from the palace. Emma paused, bending over to catch her breath, before continuing as the sky began to lighten. They didn’t speak as the moved, using all their energy to get as far from the palace as possible. Stopping only when they reached a stream.

 

‘I’m starting to think I was hasty in kissing you,’ she said.

 

‘Aye, but what is done is done,’ Killian replied as he filled his canteen. ‘We should follow the water, we’ll reach the sea in a few hours, and the _Jolly Roger.’_

 

Emma smiled and nodded as she poured water over her face.

 

‘Why did he help us?’ he asked. ‘Your brother.’

 

‘Well, getting back his place as next in line to the throne was a powerful motivator,’ she explained. ‘Besides, had he not helped, I’d have done it myself. It was just made easier with us both.’

 

She held out her hand for him. ‘Come,’ she said, ‘the sooner we’re on that ship, the sooner I’ll feel safe.’

 

\--//--

 

It takes days for Charming to deploy his Navy. More than long enough for Killian Jones to put distance between them and the Enchanted Forest so that they’ll not be caught. Emma stands at the side of her captain, her chin resting on his shoulder as he casually throws out they should visit Agrabah.

 

It’s lovely this time of the year.


	2. Missing Scene (Emma Escapes the Sleeping Tower)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, some quick blurb. I've put this up because, well it's still CS AU Week, and I really did like this bit of story, but I cut it due to the tone and pace. As the whole story is from Killian's POV, bar a few moments, using Emma's position disrupted the flow. It also took away the surprise at the end when Neal is revealled to have helped her. 
> 
> But I really like this. So, for your viewing pleasure.

It sounded so final, the click of the door followed by the fading steps of guards hauling Killian away. Emma had not meant to collapse into such a state, but the effects of the curse, learning she had a True Love and discovering it was strong enough to banish the darkness had been overwhelming in itself. What had come after had been such a kick to the gut. 

Ten years had passed since she had lain eyes on either one of her parents. The last time, she had recalled them telling her they were taking her home to find her True Love so the curse may break. Or to put it in other terms, paraded before the gentry. Hence she had left. Yet despite all the scenarios she had dreamt of, the ways and means to break the curse, Emma could not have foreseen she would fall in love with the caster. 

She pondered, as she looked at the gilded door before her with its twisted braid designed handles. Emma had heard the lock slam home. She had spent many a night in a jail cell in the nine years before she had found Killian Jones.

Killian Jones. Captain of the Jolly Roger. Former Dark One. Her True Love.

She had to get to him. Shakily, because she was weak from year long sleep, she got to her feet. She looked around, recognising this room as the one in the tallest tower of the summer palace. As a child, when the fairies brought her to visit, she would play here with Neal. He’d be twenty-seven now. Emma continued her examination, realising that now of this was not her parents doing, but the workings of Killian in his grief. A tribute to the way she had touched him in their all too short a time together. 

Even the over clingy velvet dress that accentuated her body was a testimony to how he saw her. Light and sensual. 

Wholly impractical in a fight, of course, she thought, looking down at it. It would be a pity to destroy it. But she needed her legs to move. She walked over to where she had dropped Killian’s sword when her knees hit the unrelenting marble floor. She hadn’t noticed it’s weight when she had taken it to stay her father’s hand, but it was far heavier than her own sword. She twisted her wrist and elbow to make it swish through the air, the blade zinging as she tested against her own ability. It would do the job at hand even if it left her aching afterwards. 

If she survived, of course. 

The palace was likely to be teeming with guards now they had the supposed Dark One in their cells. 

Emma bent down, picking up the skirts of her dress then pulling them taunt. She sliced through the material with the cutlass until the bottom fell away leaving a jagged hem around her thighs. Emma kicked the remaining fabric away along with the dainty matching shoes. She’d be much better off barefooted. 

After examining the lock, she concluded she needed two hair pins to pick it, but her golden tresses were loose. So she dashed back to the table where Killian had lain her crown before he had kissed her. The curse had not put her in the type of sleep she expected, where she would be trapped in a fiery nightmare, but in one where she had heard the world around her. She had felt her mother lay the diamond tiara in her hair not long after being transported here. She had felt Killian remove it. 

Emma held the crown given to her on her tenth birthday - the Crown of the Princess of Misthaven – and frowned. The excited girl who had accepted this was long gone. Emma Swan put it down where Killian had left it to continue her search for something resembling a lock pick. She even checked the plants climbing up a trellis for little pieces of wire holding them into place. 

Well if that is how they wanted to play it.

She walked up to the tall door and rapped hard against the wood with her knuckles. ‘Water,’ she cried, ‘I need water.’ She rapped multiple times until she heard the jangle of keys. 

Emma stepped back twisted so she was behind the opened door. Then when the back of the guards ‘head was visible, she brought the basket shaped guard down on the crown before spinning and using the pommel to knock the other man out. They both collapsed in a heap. Emma smiled. Her meticulous attempts to keep her royal birth a secret in her days as a bounty hunter had worked gloriously. 

She pulled the guards into the centre of the room, grunting with the strain of pulling the heavy, armoured men. Emma divested them of their weapons, buckling the addition sword – an unwieldy claymore style favoured by her father – to her waist for use in an emergency. However, she had nowhere to store a dagger. 

Emma piled the pilfered weapons outside the door and locked it with the key still hanging from the lock. ‘Sorry guys,’ she whispered as she turned and ran down the steps of the tower.

She kept her sword up despite the ache forming in her elbow. At the bottom of the stairs, she would have to find a way to get better clothes then find a way to the dungeons. However, she had no idea where her parents kept their prisoners. The access to them would be easy enough to find – heavily guarded iron wrought doors were the norm – but getting in would be difficult. 

The whole place was made of marble, gleaming white and greys dominated the place. Emma pressed herself to the wall to look out the window into the courtyard below. It was swarming with people. She had no idea what was being said about the situation to the outside world. By her calculations, only an hour or so had passed since her awakening but guards and maids alike would have heard the Dark One had been pulled from the chamber and she as awake. Emma stepped to the far wall then began as quickly as she could to move to the opposite end of the corridor. 

As she rounded the corner, a sword came up and rested on her throat. Emma froze, cursing inwardly at not paying attention, but her successes had quickly gone to her head. Her eyes travelled the length of the sword. A claymore, but exquisitely made, a sword a Prince would carry. Indeed her younger brother was at the end of the blade. 

‘Neal,’ she breathed, ‘put that down before you poke your eye out.’

He didn’t. Emma sighed. Her little brother resented her for the decision their parents had made in her sleeping year. Upon her disappearance, he had been made next in line, trained and tutored to be King. Then he’d been pushed aside. He had come to the sleeping chamber drunk some nights, raging at the unfairness of it. Emma agreed with him. She had no desire to be Queen when she could spend her life with the wind whipping through her hair and the sea spraying her body at the bow of the Jolly Roger.

‘Now where are you going?’

Emma raised her eyebrow, then pushed the blade away from her neck. ‘To rescue my True Love, then get as far away from this place as is possible,’ she replied, stepping out of his reach. 

‘So you are bewitched.’

‘Is that what father is saying?’ she let out a sardonic chuckle. ‘I didn’t even know he was the Dark One until a week before the curse hit. But he isn’t even the Dark One anymore.’

Neal laughed. ‘You expect me to believe that?’ he spat out.

Emma shook her head with a sigh. She couldn’t pretend she understood the true power of the Dark One, but she had seen it shimmering beneath the surface in her lover when the rose had reappeared. She had heard it too, as he raged against the curse in the cabin. 

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘because look around. Were he still the Dark One, do you think he would have let himself be taken prisoner? He could fell everyone in this castle with the click of his fingers were he still the Dark One.’

Neal glanced around the gleaming white castle, his sword lowering for the first time. 

‘Neal, I know what was taken from you,’ she said, seizing the moment, ‘but I don’t want the Kingdom.’

‘How do you know he doesn’t either?’

‘I just do.’


End file.
